A New Beginning
by flashfroze
Summary: Ranma finds out the hard way what 'waking up on the wrong side of the bed' signifies. With outside help and potential love in the air, whatever would our favourite pigtailed Martial Artist be without chaos, a sexchanging curse, and a horde of fiancées afo


Disclaimer: I don't own anything apart from the plot, any made up characters, and the anumals. Plus, expect a few cameo appearances from Death throughout the story. I did say this was quite morbid right? All series that appear to be crossed over are not controlled by me – unfortunately. I mean, think of all that money going to waste…

At first travelling around the world seemed like that good an idea at the time – ranging from quirky books to downright elliptical spheres – and much more. In fact it was probably because of them that I in the first place had decided to enlist with the enterprise. Assuming that longevity doesn't depart from our glorious celestial bodies that range around us in the interestingly stingy designs that nature follows so blindingly and that we haven't the utmost clue about really deepened my respect for them I wouldn't complain if I, for once, could actually figure out what this had to do with my lying here in bed, snoozing with an annoyingly fettered black cat mewling at me to wake up. Well, okay, it would be much more believable had I said that but then again I'm not normal, the cat isn't normal, and you aren't normal… Oh, mad at me aren't you? "I'm normal enough!" you hiss in barely controlled fury. "If it wasn't for the fact I love my computer and you've interested me in this story that…!" Oh hush!

But you don't hear me complaining. Whatever, back to what I was saying. One must wonder what an abnormal person (such as you – especially you) is doing reading this? Well, for starters, you _are_ reading this and that (as I have noted is a rather contrite way of saying bugger off to those few pricks who relish in all… but I digress) I must gladly say proves you have not stopped to question my intentions regarding my memories and my 'companions'. Or if you have, then bugger off to you to! In every life a little rain must surely fall, I'm here to say that there's a rainbow waiting around every corner. Well, go on and find it, because that is where my rather short and deluged commentary will start my story off at. Well, that's saying if we were going to be starting at the end, and finishing off by reaching the conclusion, but then you awful readers wouldn't be actually rather interested in this story. So, I think I'll start my story _before_ the beginning. In fact, I go even further than that; I shall start my story to when everything began…

But do realize it will take quite a long time before we even reach the point in time where the story starts, 'Readers' these days, want everything for themselves, and yet what happens when a hapless, wrinkly, bald, and _grinning _old man starts his story, they all clamber for a good, short, love story on how two trees have mad passionate conversations induced by their leaves. So I decided to start at the middle of the beginning as where nearly all great epics start. Because once you have reached the middle of something, the reader cannot stop reading. He is hooked. And so right now I am fishing for readers. For those big 'marliny' types that read hundreds of books a day to the small 'minnowy' type that read perhaps one book a lifetime and even then it's a small little scrap of toilet paper on where Jane found a bug. And, most importantly, I have caught one. Yes, I have caught _you_. You have become my little experiment. How does a fish react to a book once they are caught in it? We shall see, we definitely shall see. So, let the story begin from the _middle_ of the beginning…

And when He began everything, it was all as it should be. It was Good. Not just a good with a small 'g', no, this was absolutely brilliantly _perfectly _Good - with a capitol 'g'. And He looked upon what He had Created and He noted that It was Good. A rather long winded way of looking at what the others were muttering about as another explosion. "Oh no! Not another explosion… I wonder what He Created _this_ time! Honestly, what does that impudent _Brat_ absolutely know? First dabbling in vacuum possibilities as a _rather-brilliant-inventor_ oh no, we can't possibly have that. Then his forays into "Micro-Analyzations-Of-The-Magical-Weaves". And his theatrical dramatics, they do show our school in a rather unfavourable light which proves he is a Bad Boy."

Professor Grinod, pronounced _Professor '_Grai – node' (and if you fail to pronounce it correctly heaven forbid you were 'spoonch-fed'. The very worst thing that could happen to anybody on earth was being 'spoonch-fed' as it involved a spoon, an irate _Professor _Grinod, and a lot of very disgruntled cows – did I tell you it was the _Very-Worst-Thing-That-Could-Ever-Happen-To-Anybody_?) was upset. Yes, Professor Grinod was upset. One who had to be oh so particular about one's name, reputation, bodily functions, etc. and someone who was very Important shouldn't have had to deal with this upset upstart. Yes, _Professor_ Grinod was a Very Important Person. And right now, this Very Important Person who was, unfortunately or fortunately depending upon whose side of view you had encroached upon, regarding the person in front of him with 'The Look' had decided enough was enough and with a flick of a wrist sent a spell towards the person he was sneered so thoughtfully towards. 'It was a good sneer' _Professor_ Grinod thought to himself, 'Yes, a good sneer if I do say so myself.'_ Professor_ Grinod was staring at who he perceived to be a Bad Boy. And Bad Boys were quite rare in such an established school of knowledge. Now the winning ticket lottery question: who was _Professor_ Grinod sneering at? Who was _Professor_ Grinod declaring as a Bad Boy? "NOBODY IMPORTANT, THAT'S WHAT." And approaching from behind the _professor_ appeared a rather bony person covered in rather blackish billowing robes, which – for all intents and purposes – lost its spookiness when a smaller but equally mysterious clad stranger stuck his hood out of the person's pocket.

"ON THE PAIN OF DEATH, THAT I DO HEREBY BRING, I FORBID YOU - THE AUTHOR - NOT TO MENTION THE NAME OF _THE_ CREATOR FOR THE NEXT THREE CHAPTERS OR TO GO ANY FURTHER IN TELLING THIS STORY. I WILL BE COMING BACK TO MAKE SURE YOU HOLD TO YOUR WORD." And with a slight 'swoosh' sound the figures disappeared in what appeared to be a cliché. Oh fancy that, you readers are probably bickering amongst yourselves how on earth a spectral figure who appears to be a copyright infringement actually appear on this plane of existence and converse in a foreboding tone with the author is real? Oh, the horror, the shame, the author is a Bad Sort. That is a Very, Very Bad Thing as no-one will ever wish to acquaint themselves with The Bad Sort. Very well, read the disclaimer at the top of the document. And please note that the French Knights we'll be meeting later are although a collection of this conversation, but not the British Knights, oh no. They are a Good Sort. Sorry Frenchies, it's just the way the cat was skinned, err I mean fed. Heh heh, we can't have Animal Cruelty showing up and '_derailing_' this story just when it got to the interesting part right? And therefore none of you will report any mishaps to the animals that will be appearing later on. And one last note for clarification, I will be using _anumals_ from now on as they are quite like animals in general except they have no rights, apart from the ones I give them. Quite clever of me, right?

"SHUT UP! AND HURRY ON WITH THE _CORRECT_ STORY, WE'RE COMING UP TO AN _EXCITING BIT_!" Since I'm not one to argue with sound logic shall we head on to the story – boring as it may be? So our intrepid heroes are on their journey to a castle on a search for…

"The Holy Grail. We are on a quest for the Holy Grail, and we'd like to know if it were possible for us to… ahem borrow one of yours?" The group of knights, far more powerful than one would believe, were approaching a castle in the heart of England controlled by the French. "Ah, no, I zink knot. Az ve kan tell, yu are English pigz!" The knights stared at the group of stout and tart French defenders and then decided it was better to change their strategy – the English _were_ known for their adaptability. "We'd like to know if it were possible to come in and have a look at it. Only for a few seconds, you know, I mean, erm, we _do_ have to check what artefacts you have so as to charge a _'Ye olde Artefact Tax'_ as to what you have, heh heh - English law you know. All proceeds go to my pocke- err, I mean that is 'all _charitable_ proceeds go to my pocket'. The rest gets sent to my account in the bank."

Yes… right… interesting my arse, let's get on with the _real_ story shall we?

Saotome Ranma wasn't feeling that well. It wasn't the sort of '_throw-it-up-all-over-the-couch_' type but more of the '_I've-got-a-sneaky-suspicion-that-someone-or-something-is up-to-no-good-and-I'm-about-to-die_' type of feeling. It began with the hairs on the back of his neck rising in fright and the butterflies in his stomach doing their usual dance, and then the heart decided to play 'hide-and-go-seek'. You see, it had been a perfectly _normal_ day. Not the usual normal as in the usual Mallet-To-The-Head-When-Fiancé-2-Or-3-Appeared-Or-When-He-Refused-To-Eat-Perfectly-Poisonous-Cooking, Fiancé-Fight-Where-Ukyo-Shampoo-And-Akane-Would-Attack-Each-Other-In-Hopes-Of-Proving-Themselves-To-Him, nor had anything relating to that happened. In fact nothing _normal_ had happened thus it was a perfectly normal day, that is, for anyone _not_ in Nerima. In fact, one could see the hordes of salesmen with 'Apocalypse now!' signs heading towards there; it seemed to be a good business in that side of town for those signs as of now. And Nabiki couldn't really do anything to leach money from those salesmen as they had appeared from the middle of nowhere – led by their _Brave-But-Foolish-Leader_. And not once had a single "RANMA, PREPARE TO DIE!" challenge been issued throughout the duration. So as the denizens of Nerima were aware, someone was about to die a very horrible and disastrous death. Someone preferably named Saotome Ranma as nearly every male and female under the age of eighteen hoped.

And now, gazing at the Tendo Dojo and Tendo House, Ranma knew his end, his Apocalypse was waiting for him in the house. Or the dojo. Dojo or House, neither really mattered. Just what was waiting for him, be it another fiancé, or challenger, or demon-summoned-by-Happosai. Ranma for the first time felt he had gotten _something_ good from his father: the special 'survival instincts' and 'self-preservation techniques' Genma had cooked up. And it was a _real_ pity Ranma wasn't really interested in following those instincts screaming at him. He looked up at the sky, not a cloud in sight. He checked the surrounding areas with his ki, not a challenger within detection. He looked in through the window, not a single Amazon, whacky mother, fiancé, rival, or anyone lay in sight. Apart from a Panda drinking tea, chewing bamboo leaves, and playing go with Tendo Soun, the patriarch of the Tendo household. Ranma blinked, and then blinked again… Since when had his father eaten bamboo? Was he turning into a real Panda?

Shaking his head on that matter Ranma ventured toward the main doors into the Tendo House, then stopped, placed his ears against the door and listened quietly. The sound of heavy breathing was rather unsettling, but then again, so was a glowing immortal Phoenix prince, so was a flying dragon in human form, so was a infatuated Ghost Cat, so was a pair of three-hundred-year-old trolls intent on making his life hell, so was the fact he had survived. Ranma blinked. He hadn't thought he could have such morbid realisations, and then he blinked again. What the hell was a realisation? No matter. Then he felt something and turned to look behind him. There stood a bony figure in blackish robes - with one breast-pocket - that billowed about it in a willowy fashion. There was a great big scythe in its right hand, well if you could call it a hand, and in its left hand was grasped rather uncomfortably another such figure, scaled down of course, with the same such robes and scythe but with a rather bony snout protruding out from underneath the hood instead of a normal face. In fact, it looked more like a rodent of a sort rather than an actual scaled down figure. 'Interesting' Ranma noted.

"GOOD EVENING MORTAL. I HAVE COME HERE FOR YOU." Ranma stared, then sighed; he should have known that he'd eventually piss off a being of incredible power but that didn't mean he was going to just cave in and let the stranger have his way. Ranma then noticed something very wrong with the statement. Wait, it wasn't Akane, wasn't his mother, wasn't his father, wasn't Tendo Soun, wasn't one of Akane's sisters, wasn't one of his fiancés, but instead was him the stranger was after… He grew a little cautious, oh no not terrified, humbled, or scared-out-of-his-pants. That was earlier. Now he could see the potential threat but nothing had happened. Hmm, time to see what the stranger wanted and who he was. Ranma looked and then sighed. It appeared everyone seemed to see him as a jock with no brains and he was tired of it. He was a master of adaptation, a master at thinking on his feet; why couldn't he use that in school? Well, it seemed he had to get the stranger to notice him again.

"Excuse me sir, but who do ya happen ta be? And why are ya visitin' the Tendo Dojo?" The figure looked at him in response, sweat dropped, and then decided to be cordial. It peered through its hood and faced the youth mumbling under its breath about how incompetent the author was in informing his characters of future confrontations. It also seemed the young man in question hadn't been informed by his loving fiancé and friends. Hmm, that would bear some looking into. With that thought the figure turned to its companion, gave a slight chuckle and motioned Ranma to come closer with its scythe. A series of squeaks at different lengths, pitches, and volumes were returned in fire. At this the taller stepped toward the motionless Ranma and gave one last look at him before responding to his question.

"PLEASED TO MEET YOU, I AM DEATH, AND I AM HERE FOR YOU. THIS SMALL COMPANION OF MINE IS NAMED '_THE DEATH OF RATS'_." Ranma stared and looked Death up and down, then stared and looked Death of Rats up and down. He then looked at Death and sighed. "Shoulda known somethin' like this woulda happen. Just glad it ain't Akane you're after. I've had no end o' troubles with other challengers comin' after her. So, whatcha want with me?" He looked up at Death and then looked back at the Tendo House blinking whilst moving on to the Tendo Dojo. "Hey, where is everyone else at? It's too quiet for them to be here." Death smirked slightly at this, whilst Death of Rats merely squeaked. Ranma noticed then that they were still in the garden and realised he was being a bad host – after all, they _were_ guests. "Why don't we head into the Tendo House an' I'll fix ya something' ta drink that alright with ya?"

"I DON'T BELIEVE IT WILL BE NECESSARY. AFTER ALL, I DID SAY I WAS HERE ABOUT YOU – NOT THEM. AND ABOUT THAT, YOUR _FRIENDS_ WILL BE HERE IN ABOUT FIVE MINUTES OR SO TO 'STAB-YOU-IN-THE-BACK-WHEN-YOU-AREN'T-LOOKING'. AT LEAST, THAT IS WHAT I OVERHEARD." Death was looking rather pleased about this Ranma sorely noted. He had his scythe all ready for the final slash, the 'painless end' to his morbid life. All the crap he had to put up with and now here he was talking with his executioner, well _indirect_ executioner. Unless, he could somehow convince him _not_ to kill him as that would simply be a serious setback to his plans for living. Hmm, what to do, what to do? If not… wait, that was an excellent idea, maybe. It wouldn't hurt to ask now, would it?

"Uh, Mr. Death, sir?" At Death's nod Ranma happily continued. "You sure 'bout this death thingy here? I mean, mustn't it be a bit depressing havin' ta witness so many peoples' deaths. Wouldn't you feel lonely and inexplicably disheartened and despondent with all the death - pardon the pun - that comes along… with the career choice you've made?" Death looked puzzled, then bewildered, and then downright mystified. Death looked at the Death of Rats who seemed to have smoke coming out of its ear holes. He then turned back to Ranma and smiled showing two rows of perfectly white, shiny, perfectly aligned teeth. Ranma then turned to the scythe and then sighed. It had been a good try but he knew all things would end this way… wait. Death had said the others were about five minutes away around two minutes ago. This meant he had about three minutes before he was killed to either convince Death to take him as a friend or employee, or to get the hell out of there. Since he had already tried the first option he decided to trust the instincts that had continuously been swearing at him to hit the dust.

"WHY DOES YOUR COUNTENANCE CHANGE WHEN FACING GREAT DANGER? AT FIRST YOU SEEMED LIKE A RATHER _BAD SORT_. BUT NOW YOU APPEAR TO BE MORE THAN THAT, HMM… I WONDER?" At this moment Death realised Ranma had packed his belongings (meagre though they were) and was ready to hit the road and employ the famous 'Saotome School of Anything Goes Final Attack' – in other words…

"Run away, run away!" "Retreat, retreat!" "They're fighting back those French bastards!" "They should let well enough go and give us back our castle!" "Damn French!"

Ranma, The Death of Rats, and Death simultaneously swivelled their heads in the same direction and noticed the throng of knights in shining armour retreating from, nothing… Ranma shook his head, he should have known better than to be puzzled by such a strange occurrence. Well, it wasn't _every_ day one saw a group of medieval knights charging through a twentieth city attacking nothing. Weird! He turned back to both reapers and smirked. It was time to be off, and hopefully escape his life. The Death of Rats though had other plans. "SQUEAK!" and Ranma found himself falling through a portal and…

… onto his bed. He woke up and found himself alone. 'Man, what a whacked up dream… Did I really meet Death? And whoever thought there'd be a '_Death of Rats_'?' He muttered as he made his way to the furo – glad for once he wasn't subject to either a snap kick or a pail of water as a wake-up call. He then noticed the stillness of life – no one was moving about. No sound was heard from downstairs when Kasumi would normally be cooking, and no sound was heard from the dojo either. Weird, maybe that dream had something to do with this… Ah well, let well enough alone and hopefully there'll be some food for me to eat - though it is kinda strange for Kasumi _not_ to be up and cooking at this hour. He then looked at the furo in front of him. Strange, for some reason it seemed to keep cold – no matter how much hot water he poured into it, it always remained cold.

Ranma sighed and stepped into the furo and then sat down to begin washing his back. He washed his hair and was stepping out of the oriental bath when he looked in the mirror trying to make sense of his curse when he froze. He was still a he… with that a wild yell of jubilation escaped from his mouth before he could even contemplate the fact he had become fully male once again. No longer could he become the target for every perverted boy at school, no longer would he be seen as a freak – half boy, half girl – damn! He wouldn't be able to get free ice cream anymore. Oh well, he looked up at the ceiling, 'why didn't the lights work anymore?' Frowning Ranma exited the room and entered the corridor. Something strange was definitely going on, looking right and left, he decided to go downstairs. Passing an oddly shaped door, he looked at it and realised it was the entrance to Nabiki's room. He had never been in there but he found it haunting. Since when did she have on her door orange, black, and white colours in a spherical design? Strange, he thought and curios, he decided to open the door. And a white flashing light blinded him. Peering through the brightness, Ranma discovered there was nothing here. Just a blank white void. Closing the door, it made no sound as the latch closed and locked him back out in the corridor.

Ranma looked at the clock in the corridor and noticed that the hands hadn't moved. He was getting scared, no, absolutely terrified. Firstly, no one was in the house. Secondly, his curse was cured for no explainable reason. Thirdly, the lights in the Tendo household didn't work. Fourthly, Nabiki's room was seriously messed up. And fifthly, there was a broken clock in the corridor which he had never seen before. Was this a dream he was going through? Was what he dreamed reality? He looked around trying to figure out a way to make sure it was a dream. He settled on pinching himself and did so. And he waited. Waiting for the pain to come, waiting for the clock to disappear, waiting for Nabiki's room to turn back to normal, waiting for the lights to turn on and off at the flick of a switch, waiting for his curse to return, waiting for time to be restored, and waiting for life to return to the household.

"SQUEAK!" Ranma turned. Right before him was the very apparition that had caused this dreamlike reality to appear before him. 'The portal. That was what caused these differences.' Ranma mused and then regarded the Death of Rats with a quiet and calculating stare. He was wary of the scythe in the creature's hand, and of what had happened of late. Settling for a civil approach, Ranma walked toward the Death of Rats, kneeled in front of the robed figure, and stared it straight in its eyes. Or at least were its eye sockets. Grasping a hold of his ki, he started up the 'Soul of Ice' technique and felt relieved when it still worked and most of his anger went away. So he could still use his spiritual powers – good. Looking the robed rodent, he ventured a guess as to what had happened to him.

"Look here - Death of Rats, right? - Anyway, what the hell is going on? Is this a dream? Is this reality? What the hell happened to everyone else, huh? Where are they? Am I alone? Is it just you and me? Answer me pal or you won't like the consequences." After breathlessly finishing his tirade Ranma sat back and looked at the rat, awaiting a response. Finding none, Ranma noticed that it was fishing around in its pocket for something. Tired of being ignored, he back-handed the figure lightly and was surprised when it went flying into a wall, followed by it dropping unceremoniously onto the ground. He winced, he hadn't meant to hit the thing that hard. He somehow knew he was screwed – big time. "Look, sorry pal. Ok? I didn't mean ta hit that hard and I was kinda angry 'cause ya weren't answering my questions. Ya _were_ kinda ignoring me back there."

The robed figure huffed indignantly before responding with a veritable "SQUEAK!". Digging its free hand into its pocket, it once again searched for something apparently hidden from sight. After what seemed a few minutes – time held no meaning in this strange place – the Death of Rats presented Ranma with a scroll. Not moving, Ranma looked expectantly at the scroll before him. It appeared to be fashioned out of yellow paper and was burned about the edges; currently the Death of Rats was looking at him bemused. Seeing Ranma remain motionless, the Death of Rats moved forward, shove the thick parchment into his hands, stepped back, tripped on them hem of its robe, and ended at the bottom of the stairs with a rather large lump on its head.

Ranma looked at the Death of Rats with a bizarre expression on his face; apparently he thought bones couldn't grow lumps to signify a '_bump-on-the-head_'. Ah well, he'd look later into that and filed away the thought before glancing down at the parchment. It appeared this was more important at this moment in time as the Death of Rats was pulling at his pant legs gazing crossly at him with the intent for him to open the scroll. He stared, how the hell did that last sentence make sense? Never mind, and with that thought he carefully lifted the seal and slowly but surely unrolled the parchment. He looked at the ceiling noting, 'how long would the author keep with the mention of 'parchment' as it was getting rather repetitive and unnecessary. Looking back at the parchment, he noted the character been quickly drawn in a beautiful fashion – only problem was, he couldn't understand it. Looking back at the Death of Rats he queried what to do.

"SQUEAK." was his response. With a shake of the head Ranma returned to the scroll and realized he could now understand what was being said. Then realized he was supposed to read it.

"_Dear Saotome Ranma"_ it read, _"I have a proposition for you." _Ranma nodded, this was getting rather interesting. _"I believe you are experiencing a rather troubled event involving 6 girls, 3 boys, 4 adults, and a pet panda."_ He winced – he'd forgotten about his friends and family ever since he got here. No wonder he was feeling so relaxed, so calm. _"This proposition involves you leaving this place free of charge after faking your own death. All that will happens is we take you with us whilst in the presence of everybody else after explaining who we are. The only catch is that you become immortal (of a sort). Any queries will be directed to my secretary."_ Ranma looked at the spectre in front of him - the Death of Rats had a secretary? Well, hopefully it'd be someone a little less grim. _"Yours truly, Death._

_Friend of the friendless, 4th Horseman of the Apocalypse, and your eternal keeper – though hopefully not for long."_

Ranma looked back and forth from the Death of Rats to the letter. He reread it and this time without any interruptions.

_Dear Saotome Ranma,_

_I have a proposition for you. I believe you are experiencing a rather troubled event involving 6 girls, 3 boys, 4 adults, and a pet panda. This proposition involves you leaving this place free of charge after faking your own death. All that will happens is we take you with us whilst in the presence of everybody else after explaining who we are. The only catch is that you become immortal (of a sort). Any queries will be directed to my secretary._

_Yours truly,_

_Death_

_Friend of the friendless, 4th Horseman of the Apocalypse, and your eternal keeper – though hopefully not for long._

Well look at that. He'd be able to escape his current situation honourably; he'd get to have all the time in the world to practice his martial arts _and_ none of the girls would lose their honour. More importantly, he'd remain alive. Then he stopped and turned to the Death of Rats… who simply wasn't there. Weird, where had that little rascal gone to? No matter, he'd be able to ask both of them the questions he had running through his mind after he'd escape this place and learned more information about their proposition. That is, only if they were telling the truth. If this was some other plot by the old ghoul and the perverted freak then he'd pull out all the stops against them. No one would insult and deceive his freedom!

He turned and went upstairs - Nabiki's room was still a maze of white void yet there was the distinct machination of nothing. Hmm, a fitting room for a fitting person, she really needed to get a heart. He went back into the guestroom, stripped, and went to sleep. He was rather tired after all of the excitement for the past few hours. Hopefully he'd meet the two reapers later, after all - sleep came first. Wait, he was in a dream right? So how would he fall asleep? He sat down on his bed and sighed, maybe he should just stop it with the thinking, and he already was developing quite a headache. He looked at his pack. It had been so many months since he had arrived here, so many months since he had had a home and now he was most likely going to be leaving it tomorrow - dead or alive.  
"If there's one thing I promise, it's ta never get bogged down in honour again." Saying that, Ranma tucked himself in under his covers, closed his eyes, and waited for sleep -hopefully it would come soon.

Some time later, standing over his sleeping figure stood the Death of Rats smiling whilst scribbling on the piece of paper in his hand. All at once the dream world crashed and all that was left in the room that showed that anything concerning death had been there was a piece of paper. A piece of paper with three signatures on it: that of Death, the Death of Rats, and Saotome Ranma. His new life had just begun…


End file.
